Page 35 of Giving Grace

“No,” Ryan answers my question while he scrubs his hands on the legs of his jeans and gives me an apprehensive smile because I’m angry and he knows it, even if he doesn’t know why. “Actually I was hoping I could ask you for a… incoming.” The last word is whispered under his breath, seconds before I hear the kind of ear-piercing shriek that has surely lured many a sailor to their deaths.

“Ryazan!”

His name is instantly followed by the slap scuffle of Molly’s sneakers as she sprints down the hall, making a beeline, straight for him. Like the laundry room doorway is a launchpad, she hits it with the balls of her feet and catapults herself straight at him and I feel my arms drop away from my chest, ready to try to catch them both because I’m sure Ryan’s bad leg is going to buckle under the force of Hurricane Molly and the impact will send the two of them tumbling down the stairs.

But that’s not what happens.

Instead of buckling, his leg holds and even though there is a lightning-fast tightening around his mouth when she hits, he absorbs her weight like it’s nothing. “Hey, kid.” He catches her mid-flight and settles her onto his hip without incident.

“Is it Wednesday?” she asks, looking at me for confirmation. When I look just as confused as she does, she refocuses her attention on Ryan. “Is it—”

“It’s Friday,” he cuts her off, an ugly red flush creeping up his neck from beneath the collar of his sweater. “Aren’t you supposed to be in school?”

I feel my hackles rise at his innocent question and I open my mouth to make my excuses but Molly beats me to it. “Yeah, but Mom was up all night helping Aunt Cari pack for her bunnymoon—”

“Honeymoon,” he corrects her with a slight twitch of his lips.

“Honeymoon?” She looks at him and frowns. “Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure.” The twitch of his mouth pulls into a full-blown smile. The kind of smile I’ve never seen from him. Ever. “At least that’s what I hear. I’ve never actually been on one.”

“I’m not sure I believe you,” she informs him with a shrug. “But anyway, Mom slept through her alarm this morning and I didn’t want to wake her.” She leans into him and tilts her head, her mouth twisted in a look of pure exasperation. “You know how she gets when you wake her up—what are you doing here?”

He makes an affirmative sounding noise in the back of his throat before looking right at me. “I’m here to talk to your mom,” he says, answering her question. He clears his throat and winces like someone is dragging their nails across a chalkboard. “I know you have class today and I was hoping I could catch a ride with you.”

“You need a ride?” I say it like I don’t know what it means. “To Bay State?”

“Yeah…” He gives Molly a wink before dropping her on her feet. “Just a ride there, I can find my own way home.”

Questions.

So many questions.

Like why does he need a ride to my school?

And why can’t he drive himself? He has a car of his own now. He doesn’t need a chauffeur anymore and even if he did, why would he ask me, of all people?

And why did Molly think it was Wednesday when she saw him?

Instead of asking, I put them aside for later and reach for my coat to shrug it on. “Come on, Mol.” Coat on, I heft my backpack off its hook and sling its strap over my shoulder. “Get your coat on, we needs to go so Ryan and I won’t be late.”

Twenty-two

Ryan

I expected silence. Prepared for wariness and sidelong glances. Readied for hostility and maybe even anger because even though Grace is the one who broke things off between us, I’m the one who disappeared.

Stopped going to the Gilroy’s for Sunday dinner. Avoid dropping by the bar when I know she has a shift. Hole up in my apartment when someone mentions that she’s going to drop by the center. I tell myself that I do it for her. That I want to make it easy for her. That I’m trying to do what she asked me to do—be fair to her.

But it’s a lie and I know it. Knew it the second I set eyes on her this morning that my disappearing act had nothing to do with what’s best for her and everything to do with my own lack of self-control.

Because even though she made it clear that it was over, I can look at her now and know, without a doubt, that I wouldn’t have let her walk away from me if I’d stuck around. I would’ve kept pulling her under. Kept dragging her back in and pushing her away until she finally hated me for it.

I know it because sitting here in the front seat of her car, all I can think about is how much I want her. What it felt like to come this morning with her name in mouth. Wonder what it would feel like to do it for real.

And that pretty much makes me the biggest asshole that’s ever lived.

So yeah, I was prepared for the silent treatment. What I wasn’t prepared for was for her to start hammering me with questions the second she settled back into the driver’s seat after walking Molly to the front office her school for a late pass.

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